Resolution

A few minutes before midnight on New Year's Eve, with the sound of fireworks preventing his usual attempt to sleep through the curve, Michael sat looking at the ball clock on the small table in the corner of his dining room. His cell phone was charging and it was unlikely anyone else would call with wishes for prosperity as he had earlier spoken to his sister back home; his MP3 player, filled with soothing New Age music, which might have helped drown out the celebrants, was also charging in another socket, so he stared at the clock to try catching the changing display in the act of inaugurating the new year. He was not yet bored with his responsibilities, nor those to come, but was aware that inertia was a heartbeat away.

At 12:00, the clock's display wished him a Happy New Year, and that was his only resolution - to be happy no matter how often he might find himself running on a treadmill during the coming semester. Be happy and keep in shape; maintain good health - prosperity was out of the question on a teacher's salary. Save enough money, however, to go to England in the spring.

He said a silent thank you to the clock, and its green, glowing numbers and letters moving around inside the sphere seemed to twinkle in appreciation.

It did not require charging and ran consistently on observatory time. It had been programmed so even if there were a blackout, it would pick up the correct time when power returned.

Perhaps, Michael thought, he would visit his family in New York in April and cut the London trip short by a few days. He was such a long way from home, and hadn't seen any of them face-to-face in over eighteen months. Yes, that was what he would do, and he would gift his sister and brother with clocks like his. Time knows no location. It can't be bound in place.